


Mother's Intuition

by saxgoddess25



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 17:20:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8336185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saxgoddess25/pseuds/saxgoddess25
Summary: It's tough to hide things from a mother.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The second Snow Queen ficlet. It's set sometime in season 2, but I'd need to go back and watch the season again to decide where. Once again, pure smut!

             

                A mother always knows.

                Snow notices the looks that pass between Regina and her daughter, the way Emma will blush slightly and look away from that haughty stare, the way Regina’s lips will twitch into a triumphant little smile. Watching those exchanges always brings an uncomfortable sense of déjà vu for Snow. She tries to ignore the other feelings they bring, but that is easier said than done.

                She knows that she should put a stop to this, whatever it is, and do so right away before it can progress any further. Regina is nothing but bad news for her family, but how can Snow make Emma forget her obvious feelings?  She’ll just deny everything to her mother, even if she is already falling under the former queen’s spell.

                Snow’s struck by the thought. What if it _is_ a spell? She wouldn’t put it past Regina to somehow curse Emma into loving her for her own twisted ends. But then, as Snow continues to ponder, a twinge of doubt steals through.  What if this is nothing but a simple case of envy?  What if her concern is camouflaging a desire to have those long, smouldering looks directed her way, as they had been in the bad old days?  No, it can’t possibly be that. It _has_ to be concern for what Regina will do to her daughter. 

                It’s a shame that Snow has never been good at lying, especially to herself. 

                For the briefest moment, she considers talking to David about it, but rejects that idea out of hand.  David would just go barging in like the white knight he is, forbidding Emma to have any sort of feelings for Regina and drawing the ire of both women, with the likely end result of pushing the two closer together.

                The doubt wells up again, the confusion about her own feelings, and that drives her up and out of her apartment in a blinding flash of irony that Snow completely fails to notice. She can’t just sit around anymore; she has to do something.  That “something” consists of marching up to City Hall and right into the mayor’s office.  There she stands, fidgeting at the other side of Regina’s desk until the woman in question looks slowly up from the stack of papers she is signing, one perfect eyebrow raised.  “And how may I help _you_ , Mary Margaret?” The words drip with her usual sarcasm and condescension, which arouses Snow almost as much as it infuriates her.

                “I want you to leave Emma alone!” Snow demands, clenching her fists and fixing Regina with a level stare.

                “Beg pardon? You want me to _what_?”

                “Oh, don’t play the innocent, Regina. It doesn’t suit you.”

                “I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” Regina’s eyes flick back to the documents in front of her, and she signs another form with a flourish, “If I had my way, Miss Swan would be far away from Storybrooke by now and things would have settled back to normal. Well, as normal as they can be now that the curse has been broken.”

                The sentiment seems convincing enough, but Snow doesn’t buy it for an instant. She might not have her daughter’s gift for detecting subterfuge, but she’s known Regina for a very long time. “Come on, Regina. I’ve seen the way you look at her. It’s not subtle. _You_ are up to something, and I’m asking you, begging you even, to leave Emma out of it. She’s still finding out who she really is, and she doesn’t need you complicating things.”

                Regina looks up again, dark eyes flashing, “She doesn’t need _me_ complicating things? That’s rich, coming from you!”

                “Be that as it may…”

                Regina is on her feet before Snow can get her next sentence out, leaning forward over her desk, the annoyance in her eyes hardening into anger, “Get out!”

                “Regina…”

                One manicured hand catches the front of Snow’s sweater, tugging her forward so that their faces hover very close together. “I said ‘get out,’ Mary Margaret. Before I do something you will regret!”

                Something _Snow_ will regret?  How very like Regina. Unfortunately – or fortunately, depending on one’s point of view – it’s been a long time since Snow has backed down when threatened. They stand, frozen in tableau, until Snow’s impetuous side wins out. Just like that, before she can talk herself out of a rash decision, she’s pulling Regina into a hot and heavy kiss over the Mayor’s desk.

                Regina’s grip on the sweater falters, and she struggles to claim a breath once Snow allows their lips to part. “What are you…?” but Snow doesn’t want to speak any more.  The maddening, taunting voice is much better silent, especially when it’s replaced by a throaty moan of surrender. Not that Snow believes for an instant that Regina is really surrendering, but it’s a lovely enough fantasy for the time being.

                The desk between them is a definite hindrance, and Snow scrambles atop it while trying to retain contact with Regina’s mouth, sending papers and office supplies scattering to the floor in the process.  Never in her wildest dreams has she expected to be the aggressor in this scenario, but then again, Regina has never exhibited this much restraint before.

                Using the position atop the desk to her best advantage, Snow kisses her with a hunger that has had years to grow.  When she finally lets Regina go again, she takes a certain satisfaction in the fact that she has to hold onto her desk for balance.  There’s even more satisfaction to be found in the way she looks so well and truly snogged.  The anger in Regina’s eyes has melted into desire and the carefully cultured perfection of hair and makeup are alluringly marred.  “Good God. You just get more beautiful,” Snow can’t keep from whispering, as she brushes fingertips over Regina’s jaw.

                “You’d look better without the Tomboy haircut,” is the snarky reply.  

                “Oh, Regina,” Snow laughs and shifts so that she’s sitting down on the desktop before pulling her into a lighter, more teasing kiss, “you always know just what to say.”

                “All part of my charm, I’m sure.”

                The normal balance of power is starting to reassert itself now that the shock of the first kisses is wearing off.  That’s not a bad thing, Snow reflects, as she lets Regina take the lead for the next one.  Not a bad thing at all.  It’s clear that Regina has warmed to the idea, and it’s her turn to take Snow’s breath away.

                 Her head’s spinning when Regina breaks from the kiss to tug Snow’s jumper and blouse off over her head, not even bothering to undo the buttons. Then her mouth is back, kissing Snow’s neck, biting along her collarbones, and down the exposed skin of one breast.  Snow arches her back to encourage the exploration, setting her palms on the desk behind her for support as she does so.  The glide of teeth and tongue on skin is delicious, and Snow makes sure to voice her approval with hums and soft encouragement.

It isn’t long before her bra has joined her other clothes on the floor and Regina is flicking her tongue over a very erect nipple.  Snow gasps and curses, drawing an amused sound from Regina.  Feeling a need to do something in return, Snow shifts balance so that she can lift a hand and run her fingers through Regina’s hair.  She scratches lightly over her scalp with her fingernails, and earns a pleased purr in response.  The purr turns into a growl when Snow grasps a handful of hair near the scalp and gives it a playful tug.

                It’s Regina’s turn to curse, but Snow can tell that the exclamation is not one of pain. It is one of desire, as her renewed ardour proves. The kisses turn more possessive as Regina’s head dips lower, and she hooks her desk chair with her foot to drag it closer. Snow’s breath catches as she realizes what that means, but she doesn’t have a real chance to anticipate before the rest of her clothing has vanished in a puff of magic.

                Regina looks up to meet her eyes then, the expression on her face one of pure salacious intent. She holds Snow’s gaze as her fingers open her up, and she drags her tongue slowly along the swollen folds of Snow’s labia. “Oh, Regina!” Snow whispers desperately, her hips twitching, her body demanding more. “Please…”

                “Please? Please what, Mary Margaret?”

                “Oh, please do that again!” The pleasure washes over her as Regina works her magic, leaving her squirming and panting on the glass desk top. “Yesssss!”

                Though part of her wants to stay in the position she’s in, watching Regina’s silky hair bobbing gently between her thighs, Snow’s losing the ability to prop herself up. Giving in, she eases back to the desk top and closes her eyes. The path to her climax builds steadily under the relentless workings of Regina’s tongue and the wicked, teasing fingers that accompany it. Snow fights to prolong the pleasure for as long as she possibly can, but her control finally breaks. Her muscles clench and her body bucks, a cry wrenched from deep inside at the release. Strong fingers hold her steady as the sweet torture keeps going and going. Regina’s not about to let her go, not while there is ecstasy to be wrung out of her body, and Snow has lost track of the number of orgasms she’s had by the time she begs Regina to stop.

                There’s a creak of leather and a brush of hair along her thigh as Regina sits back.  Snow can imagine the look on her face.  How smug it must be. Just now, she doesn’t have the energy to find out if the reality matches the mental image.

                The only sound for several minutes is Snow’s breathing as she tries to get a grip on herself.  Then there is another shifting sound and Regina’s face hovers into view. “As fun as this was, Mary Margaret, I’m going to need my desk back. A mayor’s work is never done, you know.” And there is that infuriating smirk back in place as she breezes off into an adjoining room, leaving Snow to her own devices.

                  It takes another long moment before she finally manages to sit up and look around for her clothes. They’re lying in a neat stack on Regina’s chair and Snow wonders, not for the first time, what it must be like to use magic so casually.  She’s half pre-occupied by that thought while she dresses and half by processing what has just happened.  By the time she’s fully clothed again, she’s resolved that she can’t just leave without talking to Regina. She still hasn’t given her an answer about Emma. 

                Turning in the direction by which Regina had left the room, Snow pulls up short when she finds her standing there, watching. “Regina, you startled me!”

                “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

                There is a suggestive twist of the lips as she speaks.  How _did_ the woman make everything sound so lurid? Snow lets out the breath she finds that she’s holding, and walks over to Regina.  “Before I go, are we in agreement…about Emma?”

                “Hmm.” Snow feels like she’s being sized up, and tries to give Regina one of the arched-eyebrow looks that the mayor – no, the _queen_ – is so good at. Regina simply smirks.  “We’ll see.”

                With a laugh that sends a tingle right to the base of Snow’s spine, Regina leans forward and gives Snow a lingering kiss. “Perhaps her mother can keep me occupied enough that I won’t even notice her.”

                Snow’s heart leaps at the implication and she smiles, “She might be able to do that.”

                “Good. Now get out of here, Mary Margaret. I do have work to do.”

                She goes, with a last quick kiss, feeling more elated than she has in ages. Sometimes, being impetuous was a good thing. Now to find a distraction for Emma…


End file.
